


bury your dead (the wounded heart beats ever on)

by glitteringconstellations



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteringconstellations/pseuds/glitteringconstellations
Summary: Keith has a promise to keep.





	bury your dead (the wounded heart beats ever on)

**Author's Note:**

> another rewritten fic. i actually _rewrote_ this one from start to finish though, instead of just editing and polishing up an old fic. i'm pretty happy with how it turned out. sorry grab ur tissues ur gonna need them

_“If I ever turned into a zombie, would you be able to shoot me?”_

_“What the hell? Where’d this come from all of a sudden?”_

_“It’s a serious question! The zombie apocalypse could totally happen, and I don’t want my soul trapped in a body that craves the flesh of everyone I love for all eternity.”_

_“I think you’ve been watching too many horror flicks.”_

_“This coming from the one who believes that cryptids exist.”_

_“Hey! There’s scientific evidence behind that—”_

_“Come on, humor me? Promise me that if I ever get bitten you’ll be the one to put me down.”_

_“I don’t even know how to shoot a gun, much less shoot_ you _. Besides, you know how I feel about making promises I can’t keep. You’re being ridiculous.”_

_“Please, Keith. I don’t… I don’t want it to be anyone else.”_

_“…All right. I promise.”_

… 

Keith wasn’t scared as he picked his way through a hoard of the undead. No, he didn’t really need to worry about them. Enough of their blood covered him from head to toe to hide the fact that he was still very much alive. They only had their ears and noses now, no sense left to reason that he did not act like them. 

He only had one train of thought, one objective on his mind that he absolutely had to achieve. Nothing would deter him from his goal. Not the haunting moans of the roamers, not the putrid stench of rot and death emanating from corpses both moving and still, not the ominous looking sky that threatened to open up and wash away his disguise. He would let nothing stop him from reaching his goal.

That goal stood about a hundred yards away, barely visible through the mass of roaming corpses that wandered through the quiet abandoned highway. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who that was. Even if streaks of dirty brown stained his cheeks from devoured flesh, even if blood and grime clumped his once soft hair into mats and the skin he once prided himself on sloughed off in thick, decaying chunks, even if his once gentle blue eyes now were empty, pale but sharp with an unending hunger…

It was still his Lance. What was left of him, anyway. 

Dodging the dead was easy as he marched forward with determination. Even so, he couldn’t help the tremor that shook him down to his fingertips. Fear settled in, but not the fear of death—the fear that he couldn’t go through with this. A sudden wave of doubt set his knees a-rattle, and he forced himself to swallow a sob that threatened to tear its way past his lips. 

He couldn’t give himself away now.

… 

_“You… you’re okay. You’re fine. We just gotta get you back to camp. We’ll get you fixed up. It’ll be fine.”_

_“It’s already too late for me. Now go on, get going while you still have a head start. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”_

_“I am_ not _leaving you behind!”_

_“I’m sorry Keith. You know this is the only way.”_

_“Lance, please—”_

_“Allura, get him out of here. I can’t—I can’t do this—”_

_“No! No, don’t you dare! Lance! Lance!!_ LANCE!! _”_

…

At fifty yards, Keith could see Lance clearer now. Tears sprung to his eyes despite his best efforts but he couldn’t bring himself to blink them away, letting his gaze drift over Lance. One of _his_ shirts hung loosely on Lance’s thin shoulders, one that had caused many a playful war between them. Now it was stained and torn and _ruined_ and everything seemed meaningless because Lance was _dead_ and he was never coming back. Not after this. 

Of that, Keith would make sure. 

…

_Keith picked his way through quiet streets, animate dead long since moved on and what remained of the rest of the dead littered along the road. It didn’t take much effort to find the van they’d abandoned only a few days ago. Blue, Lance affectionately called it. Now Blue was more red than blue, deep gouges in her body and windows shattered where determined hands had scratched and clawed their way through…_

_He peered into the darkened van, holding his breath without realizing it. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t Lance’s precious locket with their faces in it left on the seat, tucked haphazardly into a crumpled piece of paper. He found words there, hastily scrawled like finger paint with blood._

__Because I know you’re going to be an idiot and come back. I love you always. __

_Keith fell to his knees beside the van and wailed._

…

At twenty-five yards, Lance seemed to notice Keith’s presence. Or, the zombie that once was Lance did. Keith couldn’t suppress the shiver that shot down his spine when those piercing eyes locked with his. For a moment, a brief one, he thought he saw a ghost of the old Lance in those eyes. It cocked its head to the side, a mannerism so like Lance. It only made it that much more heartbreaking when it snarled, somehow recognizing him as human, and began to stagger toward him. 

Keith's left hand rose to his chest of its own accord, fingers curling against the locket that lay tucked beneath his shirt.

…

 _“This is your fault! God damn you, Allura, we could have_ saved _him!_

_“You know what happens when you’re bit. He made the choice to stay behind.”_

_“You left him there to die!”_

_“We_ all _would have died. Is that what you want, Keith?”_

_“I want him back!”_

_“Keith—!!”_

_“Let him go. He needs time to grieve… We all do.”_

…

At ten yards, Keith didn’t even bother to hold back his tears. The dead around him stirred a bit, smelling the salt, but Lance stood closer now than any of the others. 

“I’m so sorry, Lance.” Keith’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper as the distance between them shrunk, Lance’s animate corpse intent on getting to him despite being half gone. “I love you, so, so much. I don’t know how much of the you I loved is left in there but… If you can hear me, know that I will love you to my grave. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

Lance was little more than an arm’s length away now, both arms raised and reaching. Keith brought his pistol up and pressed it to Lance’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “But I have a promise to keep.” He clenched his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. 

The shot rang out, cutting loudly across the moans of the dead. Keith barely heard it over the pounding of his own heart and the shuddering sob that escaped him. Lance’s corpse fell dead to the ground a second time over. The hoard wasted little time pressing in around him on all sides, relentless and hungry. Keith tossed his pistol off to the side. 

He wouldn’t need it now.


End file.
